


Ferdin

by Baroness_of_Bara



Series: Ferdin Acturvard's Strange Skyrimventure [6]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Attempt at Humor, Awkward Dragonborn, Backstory, Best Friends, Canon-Typical Violence, Daedra (Elder Scrolls), Daedra Sex, Developing Relationship, Domestic Fluff, Drunken Kissing, Drunkenness, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Emotionally Repressed, Falling In Love, Ferdin's back, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Gay Male Character, Gay Sex, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Male-Female Friendship, Minor Character Death, Multiple Pairings, Near Death Experiences, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Other, Past Child Abuse, Physical Abuse, Power Dynamics, Rare Pairings, Reluctant Dovahkiin | Dragonborn, Retelling, Rough Kissing, Rough Sex, Sanguine Rose (Elder Scrolls), Sanguine is going to end up WHIPPED, Size Difference, Socially Inept Dragonborn, Team Bonding, War, back again, he's doomed, just all of it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:01:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23254375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Baroness_of_Bara/pseuds/Baroness_of_Bara
Summary: "What? No, no no no, I-I just became Archmage. There is no way in Oblivion that I'm this, this...Dragonborn, thing! That's a stupid coincidence, it must be!"Sam nodded sagely, stroking his chin. "...yet, I'm seein' a dead dragon outside your house, devoid of a soul...so you're either a Dragonborn, or some sort of freakish lich abomination.""...i-it's the former, isn't it.""Bingo."-----Ferdin Acturvard wants a nice, simple life. Free of the stresses and pains of his sordid childhood and ready to start a new life. Sure, he started life off on the wrong foot, but now that he has become the Archmage of the College of Winterhold, along with other rather wonderful benefits, the Breton can't possibly see anything but a comfortable life on the horizon.But, as one may know, Ferdin Acturvard has always been...exceptionally unlucky.
Relationships: Male Dovahkiin | Dragonborn & Lydia, Sanguine (Elder Scrolls)/Original Male Character(s)
Series: Ferdin Acturvard's Strange Skyrimventure [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1048587
Comments: 16
Kudos: 85





	1. Ain't That A Kick In The Head

**Author's Note:**

> So, I know I sort of died in this fandom, but I'm back! It's as the saying goes. You don't quit Skyrim, you just take breaks.
> 
> So, as you can tell, the canon of this is basically a total Alternate start. Ferdin didn't 'walk right into an Imperial ambush'. He skrt skrted around that shit and made his way to Falkreath. Then he made his way to Whiterun, and managed to become a thane by rescuing one of Balgruuf's snot nosed crotch spawns from being eaten by a troll. Mirmulnir got axed by Irileth (you go girl), but since Ferdin wasn't there at the time, he just sorta...respawned. The rest can be elaborated on later. Much later.
> 
> Now, without further ado, let's get going!

Ferdin was expecting a normal, slightly overcast Tirdas when he stepped out of the house.

He expected to pick up meat and vegetable from the market for a hearty stew that would make that evening meal.

He expected to perhaps teach his daughter some new magical spell today, wowing her with his own prowess in the process.

He expected to wander the countryside and hunt around for some alchemical ingredients.

What the mage absolutely, 100% did NOT expect, was to look up and see the shadow of a dragon looming over his house.

_**"W-What i-in Oblivion!?"** _

The beast's eyes flashed with malice, and reared it's head back.

_Yol..._

Ferdin's head whipped around and he _screamed_ back into his home. _**"Lydia, get Sissel into the backside of the house!"**_

Meanwhile, his magicka had already flared and his arms moved almost instinctively, as a massive Greater Ward bloomed from his fingers.

_TOOR SHUL!_

Dragonsflame crashed against his ward, and the Breton felt his knees waver.

Naturally, guards arrows were already flying by now, while the citizens of Whiterun ran screaming in terror to their homes.

The onslaught of fire ended, and the dragon ended his resting flight, deciding to soar around and scare the living damned daylights out of everyone around.

Ferdin's ward fell and instead, lightning crackled to his fingers.

"Why, of all days...?" He muttered, before aiming for the scaled beast and firing, slamming a bolt of lighning into its flesh.

The dragon screeched, its flight path wavering, before it began circling around.

The wizard cast Ebonyflesh, skin hardening, before proceeding to hammer the winged terror with bolt after bolt, the dragon roaring and screaming out after each consecutive blow. The mage's spells were certainly no small thing to shake off. He was well aware they hurt like all hell.

Another blast of scorching flame was directed at him, and again rose his ward. He cried out in pain as the side of his arm was singed, and as the blast was concluded, a grand spell of healing began repairing damaged flesh.

When the beast came down in front of his home with a thud, it roared in rage at him, gaze fierce and cold. 

Ferdin clapped his palms together, before beginning to toss Ice Spears at the dragon, adrenaline pumping through his veins.

Its tail thumped the ground roughly before swinging back upwards, and the mage's heart sank as he saw a guard fly through the air and land dully upon the cobblestone street.

_One likely casualty of what was bound to be many, if he didn't put this thing down **now.**_

He snarled in anger, the tips of his fingers tapping together, before balls of crackling ice filled his hands, while his eyes briefly glowed.

_"ANYONE NEAR, TAKE COVER!"_

As the air temperature in his immediate vicinity began dropping lower, it seemed his warning was clear and heeded, as the guards who had been firing arrows at the beast retreated away from him.

He calmed himself, breathed out.

The dragon's eyes widened, and its wings flared, but it was far too late.

The frosty spells within the mage's hands were triggered and expanded rapidly before forming a raging, devasting Blizzard.

Ferdin trembled slightly in anxiety, but remained resolute as a turbulent hurricane of frost and ice swirled around him on every side.

_D-Dovahkiin! Niid!_

Ferdin's nose wrinkled _. 'What...?'_

The spell came to an end, and Ferdin's eyes opened slowly.

The dragon was dead.

He shuddered and placed his hands on his knees, panting from exertion and excess adrenaline, emerald gaze wild and a tad crazed.

Ferdin made a move to speak, likely something to lighten the mood...but then, something astounding happened.

The dragon's scales seemed to be...glowing. They lit up like white hot metal, before burning away to ashes. And as they did so, a powerful... _feeling_ rushed through him. Colorful wind whipped past him...no, that wasn't quite right. It was going _into_ him.

He was absorbing... _something._

"W-What? What is—"

Soon enough, all scales aside from perhaps one or two were completely gone, leaving nothing but bone in their wake. There was no organs, no blood...it was as if everything outside the creature's skeleton had practically been _erased._

Ferdin's eyes glowed yellow, for just a moment, before fading to their normal color, and he looked down at himself. He felt...odd, now.

He was so engrossed in this bizarre feeling, he hardly noticed a crowd was forming until a guard spoke up, voice awestruck.

"I-I...I can't believe it. You're...Dragonborn..."

The mage looked startled, gaze turning up to the guard.

"W-What...? D-Dragonborn? What's that? What do you mean?"

"I-In the very oldest tales, back when there still were dragons in Skyrim, the Dragonborn would slay dragons and steal their power!"

He pointed at the dead dragon."That's what you did, isn't it? Absorbed that dragon's power?"

Ferdin shook his head, a tad dazed. "I-I dunno _what_ I did."

The guard's excitement didn't wane in the face of the other man's confusion, however. "There's only one way to find out! Try to Shout... that would prove it. According to the old legends, only the Dragonborn can Shout without training, the way the dragons do!"

That made the Breton even _more_ baffled.

"Shout? Can't anyone shout? My _mother_ could shout, what's that got to do with this?"

The guard shook his head. "No, no, a Shout isn't the same as raising your voice...in the Dragon tongue, they call it Thu'um. It's not just a voice, it's magic!"

Magic? He knew magic, and he'd yet to run into magic that could be summoned by _yelling._

He thought back to a few months ago, in Saarthal. In the depths, along with the eye of Magnus, there had been some sort of structure, inscribed with a language that he could barely read, aside from one word. A glowing word that he touched, that filled him with a chilly feeling.

His eyes briefly slipped shut. _"Iiz..."_

Gasps rang out from the crowd surrounding them, and Ferdin's eyes snapped open, only to feel frost on his breath, and look down to see the guard, entombed in ice.

The mage's hands flew to his mouth in obvious horror, tears practically coming to his eyes. "O-Oh my gods! A-Are you alright!?"

Had he done that? Was _that_ a Shout?

The guard was frozen for a couple moments more, before the ice on his body practically vanished, melting away like snow under the midday sun.

The guard trembled lightly, before slowly staggering to his feet. "'M fine. Nothing worse than getting caught in a heavy snowfall...but that...that was a Shout! You _must_ be Dragonborn! The legends are true!"

Oh no. Oh no no no no.

Ferdin gently backed away from the guard shaking his head in disbelief. "I-I...that's not—"

Suddenly, the very air shook, and Ferdin's eyes went wide.

_DOV...AH...KIIN!_

Everyone's gazes shot to the sky.

" _By the Divines! The...The Greybeards!"_

_"That must have been them...their very voices shake the land!"_

_"That must have been them summoning him! To High Hrothgar!"_

_"Ye gods..."_

And while the people of Whiterun spoke among one another, the mage began hyperventilating, before eloquently stumbling into his home and locking the door behind him, collapsing to the ground soon after.

"M-My Thane?"

"Papa!? What's wrong! We heard so many loud noises and screaming! Are you okay?"

The mage looked up at the approach of his housecarl and child, and fainted dead away.

* * *

When Ferdin awoke, he was in his bed, and apparently alone.

He sat up with a start. Had it been a dream? By the gods he hoped so...

"Rise n' shine, sleepyhead...even if ya look real pretty when you're asleep."

The mage jolted and his head snapped in the direction of that easygoing, deeper voice, and found none other than Sam Guevenne leaning against his dresser. 

Sam Guivenne. Aka Sanguine, the daedric prince of lust and debauchery...otherwise known as his...well, he wasn't fully sure what to call this relationship that they had with one another.

"Sam...? What are you doing here?"

The other man chuckled. "Hm? I thought I'd check on my pretty rose, but as I was comin' down the road from the tavern, I noticed that big old heap of overgrown lizard bones outside your front step...I wonder what it is you all did to piss off one of Akatosh's brats~?"

So it wasn't a dream. Great.

The mage huffed lightly. "N-Nothing, as far as I know..." He recalled what the guard said and groaned. "U-Unless..."

He looked at the door. "I'm guessing you've done something so Lydia and Sissel won't come in until you want them to, yeah?"

"Clever boy...that's right."

"In that case, I need...information."

The man's eyes flashed. "Ooh, interesting. What's in it for me?"

The Breton slumped. "Sammy, c'mon, don't be like that."

"I'm a daedra, sweetheart. I do deals, it's how I operate."

Ferdin let out a noise of pure concentrated annoyance, before huffing. "Fine, if you answer all my questions, you get a free favor from me, as long as I don't have to hurt myself or anyone else."

Sam placed a hand on his chest in mock offense. "Perish the thought...you're a special one to me, Ferdy...I'd never put you in a situation where you'd be hurt...would completely harsh my mellows. And...deal. So what do you need to know, my rose~?"

Ferdin sighed softly, face reddened lightly. "...So, hypothetically, say I killed that dragon and absorbed some sort of...power from it? What, out of all possible scenarios, could that mean?"

Sam deadpanned. "...it means you're the Dragonborn. The most recent one, actually. Congrats, by the way. You're a hero!"

Ferdin let out a noise of sheer discomfort. "N-Nooo, I said _'hypothetically'!"_

"Sure. Then, hypothetically, the only explanation is that you're Akatosh's chosen. A genuine, bonafide _Dovahkiin._ A walking, talking, dragon ending machine, in an itty, bitty, fragile mortal body. Hero desined to save the world, that sort of thing."

Oh gods, not _this_ again. "What? No, no no no, I-I just became Arch-mage. There is no way in Oblivion that I'm this, this...Dragonborn, thing! That's a stupid coincidence, it must be!"

Sam nodded sagely, stroking his chin. "...yet, I'm seein' a dead dragon outside your house, devoid of a soul...so you're either a Dragonborn, or some sort of freakish lich."

"...i-it's the former, isn't it."

"Bingo."

"B-But, but—"

Sam teleported to him, and his mortal disguise burned away to reveal Sanguine in his natural state...or rather, his more contained one. He then gripped Ferdin's shoulder.

"Shhh...relax, kid. C'mon, why're freakin' out? I thought mortals loved this kind of shit? Being the hero, becoming a legend—"

"Perhaps _some_ mortals do, but I don't! I want a peaceful life!"

"So you came to a country in the midst of civil war? Right."

"I-It's not like I _knew_ when I came! And anyways, what do I do next!? Those...whoever they are, summoned me or something! Wh-Where do I go? What am I supposed to do with this knowledge, this power!? I-I'm lost, what if something awful happens? What if—"

His words were muffled as Sanguine swiftly cupped his cheek and pressed their mouths together. Ferdin's eyes widened, before he slowly melted into that kiss, eyes fluttering shut.

Sanguine was a _extraordinarily_ good kisser.

By the time it ended, Ferdin wore a calmed, if slightly goofy look on his face, and Sanguine twitched a bit with desire.

How he wanted to bend the mage over and make him _scream_ and forget every last one of his silly, _mortal, problems_ —

"T-Thank you, L-Lord Sanguine...I needed that."

The prince snorted. "Don't mention it, honeycomb. Now, to answer those frantic questions...you should head to High Hrothgar. Bigass monastery at the top of the biggest mountain in this damn country. You can reach it by way of the 7,000 Steps, from Ivarstead. I recommend packing your heavy big boy clothes for the trek...7,000 Steps ain't a misnomer."

Ferdin sighed lightly, before snuggling up against the daedra, and now it was _his_ turn to be a tad flustered. Sex and flirting was one thing...but sincere affection? It made his stomach feel utterly bizarre.

_"Thank you..."_

_"Don't mention it..."_ Sanguine muttered softly.

The mage huffed and pulled away, freckled cheeks lightly flushed. "I...guess I shoud start packing? It'll be a long trip..."

"There's the spirit...oh, and bring the Rose. Y'know. Just in case~..."

Ferdin snorted and shoved him. "Yeah, sure...you can leave now."

"Ooh, colder than a Frost Troll's arse! Where'd that cute affection shit disappear to?"

The Breton hummed. "Who knows? Maybe it's back home in Oblivion?"

Sanguine chuckled, before snapping his fingers and disappearing. _"See ya later, darling..."_

Ferdin sighed softly, flopping onto his bed.

_"See you..."_

He felt a little bad that he'd probably worry Lydia and Sissel, but he needed time to think...or at least rest his damned brain...


	2. The Seven Thousand Steps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ferdin says farewell to his family and hello to adventure! First stop? Ivarstead!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An update? Already? Surely I jest!

Upon waking up from his stress induced power nap, Ferdin was near instantly accosted by both his worried housecarl and his frightened daughter, and the mage had to comfort them both rather thoroughly.

After that comforting time, however, came the explanation for his earlier collapse.

"High Hrothgar? I...that's a dangerous trek. Only monks make such a journey, and usually for self-reflection. Few manage to reach the very top. Are you _certain_ that you're the Dragonborn, my thane?"

Ferdin sighed. "Apparently, only a Dragonborn can permanently kill a dragon and absorb its power. So yes, I very well must be..."

Sissel's brow furrowed as she squeezed her doll and nibbled on an apple. "So...you need to go up the mountain, Papa? To meet the Greybeards...? My old pa used to talk about them, sometimes. He blamed them for not helping with the war..."

Lydia snorted. "He was a fool, dear. The Greybeards are monks...pacifists. They want to live a life of peace. They don't have a place in a civil war."

The girl nodded sagely. "Yeah, I know...he wasn't too bright..." She then turned to Ferdin. "Are you gonna go by yourself, Papa?"

Ferdin sighed and lightly tousled her golden hair. "I have to, honey. Lydia needs to stay here and take care of you while I'm gone."

The girl pouted...before smiling and handing over her straw stuffed dolly. "In that case, take Esther with you!"

The Breton looked surprised. "What...? Oh, honey, I can't do that—"

Sissel poked her lips out and pressed the doll into him. Clearly, she wasn't taking any answer but yes. "If you're going alone, you need someone to protect you Papa! Before my old pa...d-died, I always held her when I wanted to be safe from him and Britte. She made me feel less alone! A-And...once Lydia patched her up, she got way stronger, I can feel it! So...take her with you, Papa. She'll protect you from any mean dragons and bandits!"

Ferdin seemed stunned into silence, before he reached forward and pulled her into a loving hug. _"Okay, dear. I-I'll...I'll take her with me. I promise I'll bring her back, safe and sound."_

Lydia smiled and hugged the two as well. "Don't go forgetting to bring _yourself_ safely back as well, my thane. We'll both be eagerly awaiting your return, in full..."

Ferdin sniffled softly and squeezed Sissel tigher.

He'd come back soon. For them.

* * *

The journey to Ivarstead was...interesting.

For one thing, it seemed none of the carriage drivers in the area were willing to make the journey there. The roads to reach it were apparently treacherous, and steep on top of that.

So, he was left to mount his horse, Thistle, and make the journey there on his own.

It took all day and into the following morning to reach the small town, avoiding bears, frostbite spiders, and bandits along the way, but eventually, Ivarstead was reached.

As he rode into town, his mage robes naturally received several wary stares, but he paid them no heed.

He flagged down a guard. "E-Excuse me, sir? This is Ivarstead, correct?"

The guard folded his arms. "Sure is. What business do you have here, stranger?"

"W-Well, I'm here to climb the 7,000 Steps. T-To High Hrothgar, to see the Greybeards."

The guard laughed at that, and Ferdin could only imagine his facial expression.

"In that case, you're better off turning back around. The Greybeards don't accept visitors. I don't think they've left that grand monastery of theirs in decades."

The Breton sighed gently. "A-Ah, well, maybe todays's the day, then! Thank you for telling me where to go, sir!"

He guided Thistle away, leaving the guard to chuckle behind them.

' _So, I'm the only one who's been called recently? If they were even calling me. Could this be a fluke...?'_

He almost hoped so...the last time he was embroiled in some sort of 'prophecy', three people died and he got patroned by no less than three daedra. The breton had withstood just about all the adventure and 'prophecy' he could muster.

Even if he reaches the top and consorted with these 'Greybeards', what was the next step? Retrieve a lost artifact, explore another set of dusty burial crypts, and save the world? At this point he was worried about this becoming a damned pattern.

He guided his steed to a quite small stable, and eyes the farmer near it.

"Excuse me, good sir? I plan to ascend the 7,000 Steps, but I'd rather leave here until I return. D-Do you mind looking after her while I am gone? I-I have septims to pay!"

The Nord raised a brow, before huffing. "Hmmph. 7,000 Steps? Are you some sort of monk?"

The boy scratched his arm. "I-I mean, not necessarily...I just...n-need to reach the top?"

The man gave a snort. "...50 septims. I'll feed and water her for you until you return..."

The mage smiled gratefully and dismounted the horse, patting her withers lovingly. "I'll be back soon enough, girl. Be good for this man while I'm gone, okay?"

Thistle whickered pleasantly, hoof lightly pawing the ground. The mage took ahold of her lead and handed it off to the farmer, before reaching for his coin purse and pulling out the agreed on amount of septims.

The Nord took them, counted them off, and nodded affirmatively. "Good luck...and keep on the lookout for wolves, hm?"

Ferdin nodded. "Thank you, sir!"

He gave one of Thistle's flanks a last pat, before walking off towards what seemed to be an inn. He needed a drink...

* * *

Vilemyr Inn was certainly a quant little place. Certainly not his ideal spot, especially when compared to the Bannered Mare...but it'd have to do for now.

His feet instantly carried him to the bar, where he plonked himself down upon a stool.

"Hello sir...have any wine? Preferably Alto, but I'm not too picky..."

The innkeeper hummed. "You a visitor? Looking to make a pilgrimage up to High Hrothgar, perhaps?"

The mage looked surprised. "H-Hm...? How'd you guess?"

The older man snorted, gaze deadpan. "Our town consists of a handful of buildings, one of which is in complete shambles. Not much here _besides_ the 7,000 steps, lad. But, you don't much look like a pilgrim..."

"O-Oh, I'm not! At least, not in the spiritual or religious sense. I've reason to believe that these...Greybeards, have summoned me for some sort of purpose? I'm just answering their summons."

The innkeeper barked a laugh. "Summoned? No offense, lad, but the Greybeards keep all to themselves...unless you're supposed to to be the _Dovahkiin_ they were yelling about the other day." The man was obviously joking.

Ferdin looked sheepish. "I mean, well...m-maybe? I-I don't want it to be me, b-but all the people around said that me being able to just use that uncanny voice magic out of the blue _must_ mean that I'm this...Dragonborn, thing."

The man looked baffled. "I...wait. Voice magic? Are...are you serious? _You_ can Shout? Show me!"

Ferdin flushed, looking embarrassed. "I-I don't know, sir...the last person I did that to turned into an ice sculpture for a few seconds. I-I think I shouldn't be throwing this...extraordinarily bizarre power around willy-nilly..."

"Ice sculpture? Thu'um can do that?"

The mage nodded, before dragging a finger across the wood counter, looking quite uneasy. Was everyone planning to ask him so many questions? He just wanted a drink...

"Ah, w-well, apparently...?" He then huffed softly. "U-Um, how much is your wine?"

The Nord squinted, before sighing. "10 Septims a tankard."

"Huh, not bad!" The breton moved to reach for his coin purse, but was distracted by a man who came up beside him, smirking.

He was wearing a hooded cloak that obscured most of his head, and a set of scaled armor.

"Actually, I'm paying...that'll be two, alright?"

Ferdin blinked. "H-Hm? O-Oh no, that's really quite alright, I—"

"Please, I insist~..." The man purred, voice buttery smooth as he slid twenty septims to the innkeeper.

The mage looked a bit flustered. Who was this mysterious stranger, and why was he buying him a drink...?

Ferdin squinted slightly. "T-Thank you, sir. That's very kind of you..."

"Don't mention it...now, what's this I hear about you wanting to visit the Greybeards?" He crooned at the younger male, leaning against the counter. "That's quite an interesting place to wanna visit. Need a guide?"

"A...A guide? Like, for climbing up the mountain...?"

The imperial snorted heavily, clearly amused.

"No, darlin', we'll fly up on a magical carpet...yes, I'd be willing to guide you up along your trek to the top of tthe mountain, for a meager fee of 75 septims."

Feridn was surprised. "R-Really? Most mercenaries charge at least 500!"

"I'm not a mercenary...just a guide. Our contract ends when you reach the top."

"I...suppose that makes sense?"

Two tankards of wine were set before them, and the stranger nodded. "Heh, thank you kindly, sir."

Despite the wine not being in a glass, the man swirled it as if it was, a rather impressive feat considering the shape of the tankard.

Ferdin took his wine as well and, being far less of a classy drinker, swirled it once and sipped, humming gently at that slight burn and that sweet and sour taste.

"What are your skills? As a guide, I mean?" The mage asked. "Just trying to make sure I'm not getting fleeced here."

"I know the mountain up and down, and I have enough skill to keep ya from getting eaten or falling off."

Alright, he supposed that was as fair a set of skills as a mountain guide could have.

"...A-Alrighty then, it's a deal, sir. Let's finish our drinks first, however."

The imperial chuckled, then drank deeply of his wine. " _Aahhhh..._ now that's my kinda lad..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll give you 3 guesses who our 'guide' is, first 2 don't count, lmao.
> 
> Ferdin: I sure hope this whole 'retrieving artifacts, honing a new skill set, travelling to some new place, slaying some powerful foe, and saving the world' thing isn't going to be like, a trend, haha  
> Dragonborn:  
> Dawnguard:  
> The Civil War:  
> Ferdin: Ah—


	3. Dragonborn's Ascent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ferdin and his mysterious guide climb a mountain so he can yell at a bunch of old guys.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, at least it didn't take a year this time amirite?

After indulging in their libations, Ferdin and his guide made their way to the base of the mountain, passing by a few local villagers.

"So, ah...what is your name, if I may ask sir?"

The Imperial chortled and rolled his shoulder a bit to readjust the ebony battleaxe he carried. "Devan Sherri. You can just call me Dev, if it's all the same to you."

"I see. My name is Ferdin Acturvard, b-but Ferdin's okay." The mage cocked his head. "So uh, how do you know your way up the mountain so well? Are you a monk?"

Devan burst out laughing, shrugging and accentuating his rather massive weapon. "This _look_ like a weapon a 'monk' would carry?"

"I ...suppose not."

The man smirked softly. "I used to climb up and down the mountain to hone my skills...kill enough hostile wolves, bears, and wraiths, and you feel a bit untouchable. Eventually I just mapped the route out. Now I know it like the back 'a my hand."

Wait, _what_? He climbed a mountain that tall and treacherous, just to hone his skill with a blade!? Ferdin had to admit that was...an impressive level of dedication. Especially for a man with armor not too much more impressive than that of a common wild bandit.

"Oh, w-wow...you're not scared of getting like...hurt?"

Devan's eyes twinkled with something mischievous, as if the Imperial was in on some joke that Ferdin was not privy to. "No, not really. I'm pretty good at either avoiding or striking down these creatures. Most wolves fall with a single blow to the neck or side with this here axe. And well...I suppose I'll be _extra_ fine with a cute little mage to heal my boo boos up, hm?"

The mage flushed softly. Cute...He'd been called cute again. It was honestly such a flustering thing to be called, even after the past few months with Sanguine. The prince constantly called him cute, or adorable, and would enjoy snatching him up to squeeze him close, or kiss his forehead, or even squish his cheeks a little.

He had wondered if Sanguine actually felt what he said to him, or if it was all a put-on performance, sometimes. At the end of the day, Sanguine was a daedra— a daedric _prince_ , no less. They were creatures rather infamous for treating the lives of mortals like refuse to be discarded or pawns to be used for entertainment.

And yet Sanguine gave him _gifts_. Sanguine gave him advice. He kissed him, comforted him, held him...

_Some of that **had** to be genuine, didn't it...?_

"Uh...Ferdin. Are you okay? You look like you've floated clear out of Mundus."

The mage's gaze snapped to Devan, who was giving him a quizzical look. The Breton managed a soft, nervous laugh.

"Y-Yes, of course, my library of restoration spells is quite vast. I can heal anything form a Skeever bite to a crushed limb!"

The older man hummed, impressive. "My my, a talented little spell caster, are you?"

"Well I don't enjoy _bragging,_ but _...I suppose so?"_

Devan smirked softly, ignoring another pilgrim they passed on their way up. "Your robes look pretty damn fancy. I'm guessing you're from the College of Winterhold...?"

The mage's eyes widened. "H-Huh? How...How did you know...?"

"Hm, lucky guess! You must be a pretty high ranking teacher there."

Ferdin flushed, embarrassed. Oh, he hated to brag about his accomplishments, but when given such an opportunity, he couldn't resist the urge to blurt out something.

" _A-Archmage_. Actually..." He responded stiffly.

A chortle came from the guide. " _Really_? Damn, you're _full_ of surprises, ain't ya..."

Ferdin nodded, before a noise sounded out, freezing him in his tracks. Instantly he was on guard, his fingertips crackling with magicka.

Devan's gaze narrowed and he drew his axe, looking tenser than prior, his muscles clenching a bit.

At first, nothing came, and Ferdin _almost_ relaxed...

_Before a snow bear charged from the brush towards them, snarling and roaring angrily._

"By the Divines—!"

The taller man was the first one to charge, suprisingly, as he hefted his battleaxe, swung it around, and sunk it into the beast's neck. A major artery was clearly severed, as blood sprayed out to fleck the snow with red.

The bear gurgled and staggered, and Ferdin felt his heart clench a bit, before forming an ice spire and slamming it right through its head, killing the bear instantly.

"Ugh...thank you. I hate fighting animals like this. W-With magic."

Devan cocked his head, taking a moment to wipe his blade down. "Hm...? Why'zat? Don't tell me you're shy to killin'? You been in Skyrim a long time?"

Ferdin sighed. "I'm...not, and I've been here long enough. It's...easier to kill people. Most of them deserve it, and it's usually because they attacked first. I only kill bad people."

His gaze stared down on the bear with pity. "That bear...was just defending it's territory. We encroached on it, it only saw us as a threat...so I guess that's how my mind works..."

Devan cocked his head. "Guess ya have a point. You got a heart made of butter, huh...?"

"For bandits and Forsworn, no. But for animals, a little, yes."

Plus a Daedric Prince or two, but that was neither here nor there.

Ferdin gestured past the dead bear. "Anyways...let's get a move on. I do _not_ want to be outside on this mountain after the sun has set."

Devan grinned cockily. "Hah...let me take the lead then, little mage."

* * *

A fucking Frost Troll.

_A fucking Frost Troll._

Despite his softness for the bear, and various wolves they'd also met on their trip up the Throat of the World, Ferdin showed absolutely _zero_ of that now as a snarling, enraged hellion of a beast roared and slashed at him, tearing rips in his robes.

" ** _UGH_**! _Bastard_!" The mage barked out, hurling a sizable fireball into the thing's chest and sending it careening back through the snow.

Devan was picking himself up after a rather nasty toss into a nearby icy rock wall, groaning.

" _Little fucker's got a good throwin' arm_..." The Imperial growled, his eyes flashing with ire.

The troll was already back on its feet, and that powerful magical attack seemed to have only succeeded in making it _angrier._

Ferdin snarled in pure frustration. "Why...won't you...DIE!?" He cried, before lightning crackled at his fingertips.

Devan charged the beast again and swung his battleaxe; this time, the hit actually landed, and the troll roared in agony as red splashed against the snow and the bone of its arm cracked.

The beast grabbed the handle of the axe and swung it, sending the guide hurtling to the ground—

_Just as a thunderbolt slammed into it dead on, the creature's body convulsing profusely before its eyes exploded and it went still, falling to the snow with smoke curling off it's corpse._

Ferdin's eyes, once full of divine light and crackling with magicka, returned to normal, and he let out a soft, pained hiss. One of his jumps to get out of the way of a charge had twisted his ankle and it stung him rather badly.

Nonetheless, his gaze turned to Devan, who still lay on the ground, staring a bit at the troll's dead, smoking carcass.

Ferdin managed to limp his way to the other man, palms glowing with golden light.

The mage collapsed beside the Imperial, and placed his healing hands upon him, mending any torn flesh or aches.

Devan perked up a bit, then quizzically cocked his head.

"Thanks...but uh, you definitely need it more than I did. I just have a lil' headache."

The Breton gave a lopsided smile. "Eh...having my guide in tip top shape is important. You said we're a lil' past the halfway point, yeah...?"

Dev nodded, before frowning. "Yes, but still, go ahead and heal yourself... _unless you'd like me to carry you_...?"

The mage flushed and looked down. "A-Ah no thank you, I have this under control!"

His healing spell turned on himself, and he sighed in relief as the pain in his ankle waned significantly. "Gods, much better."

He shakily stood to his feet, then held a hand out for Devan to take. "Come on, let's get a move on, Dev."

The guide cocked his head, before grinning and taking a hold of the mage's daintier hand. As he was pulled to his feet, he wrapped an arm around the mage.

"You're a pretty fierce mage. And certainly a hidden force. Didn't expect ya to lay waste to that thing like ya did. Aren't we just 'encroaching on it's land'?"

Ferdin's expression soured a bit and he huffed, ignoring the flustery feeling bubbling up in his chest from how much more... _familiar_ the other man was being with him.

"The difference between a troll and a bear is the difference between a dagger and a longsword. Bears are animals, willing to leave well enough alone. Most of them don't even eat meat as we do. Trolls are vicious _monsters_ who will hunt you down, kill you, and debase your corpse for good measure. I see nothing wrong with extinguishing them."

Especially when they were so damned _resilient_...

Devan raised a brow at the other man's unexpected ferocity.

"Mm, maybe I misjudged you. You look so cute and squishy, I didn't think you were capable of bloodthirst." He purred smoothly, tilting Ferdin's chin upwards to look into those jeweled irises.

The Breton flushed and extracted himself from the Imperial's grip, looking embarrassed.

"I just have... _a bad history with the nasty things._ Look, can we get moving?"

Devan held his hands up defensively. "Hey, sure. No problems. Not judging you or anything."

Ferdin just pouted, adjusting his robes and taking a moment to frown at the rip in them that he'd need to mend soon enough.

But nonetheless, on they travelled.

Onward to High Hrothgar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise the next chapter will be a lot sooner, please believe me.
> 
> Also, a cookie to whoever figures out the (lameass) pun with Dev.

**Author's Note:**

> You ever think maybe being the Dragonborn would be like, inconvenient to some people. Like why? Who gives a shit about this place? I just got here, and I'm not even getting paid, the fuck?
> 
> Gods willing, I'll have next chapter up soon...and since it's quarantining time, I guess I have all the time on earth right now. :')


End file.
